Steeley Blues
by gilmoradict
Summary: Laura is a gifted detective, confident in her ability to out think, outrun and out-maneuver criminals. Somehow she has less faith in herself when it comes to dealing with the men she cares about…


**Steeley Blues**

_A quiet moment in the summer of 1988_

_A rough block wall concealed Laura; she peered around it, the stone cold against her cheek. The alley stretching before her was dim and only indirectly lit by a distant streetlamp. The sound of water dripping down a drainpipe echoed in the dark silence of the night. Shivering a bit, she pulled her coat more firmly about her, shifting her tired feet. With a nervous scowl, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. _

_Fatigue befuddled her. The details of the case that had brought her to this black doorway were vaporizing from her mind, much like the mist rising from the damp pavement. A plaintive cry came from some distance. Laura tensed, listening carefully to discern the direction from which the noise had come. When no further sound pierced the thick quiet of the night, the detective closed her eyes for a moment to think. _

_Something was wrong. _

_A sudden chill shook Laura, despite the warmth of her coat, and she crossed her arms tightly around herself._

"Laura."

A low whisper called her name and at the same moment, a firm hand came out of nowhere to pull on her arm and to place within the curve of that arm a whimpering bundle.

Laura's confusion deepened, though even without looking she knew this bundle to be the thing she had been waiting for. Her arm tightened reflexively around it. Struggling to open eyes which refused to obey her, she felt the object squirm against her.

"Laura, love, your son is hungry."

Groggily swimming up from an uncertain reality to the very real presence of the child in her arms, she felt her husband's weight settle into the bed in which she lay dreaming. He pulled their comforter up around her shoulders, the night breeze blowing in cool off the ocean. Groping, she adjusted her shirt to allow the baby's searching mouth to find her breast. After a few moments, the infant settled into a soft sucking rhythm. Laura's milk flooded in.

Laura cursed softly.

"What's the matter?" Harry's sleepy voice asked.

"I'm leaking."

Harry reached among the bundling of the baby to produce a cloth diaper, holding it out to Laura, who took it and pressed it to the breast the child wasn't determinedly draining.

The baby's quiet slurp was the only sound in the room.

And then, more softly this time, another curse.

"Laura?"

"I didn't even hear him cry."

Harry reached out to rest his hand on Laura's head, softly pulling a lock of her hair free, stroking it idly, and offering, "It's OK. I heard him."

"What kind of a mother doesn't hear her own baby crying?"

"One who's been caring for a demanding infant all day; one who's been working like a fiend at reorganizing her business to accommodate that child; one who's taking time to write personal thank you notes to every rag tag friend or relation who sent the son of the famed LA detectives a rattle, a ring or a romper. Cut yourself a little slack, Laura."

Laura used her finger to disengage the iron grip of Dylan's rosebud mouth before shifting to allow him to empty the other breast.

"I can't do this Harry. I'm no good at it."

"It seems to be working for Dylan."

Harry was smiling. She could hear it in his voice. "I don't mean this... I mean _this_. Everything. I'm exhausted. I'm crabby. I jump down Mildred's throat every time she opens my office door. I haven't worked out even once since I was cleared to exercise; I don't think I could chase this infant to the front door, much less a suspect down the block…"

"Laura. Take a breath, woman. Hush. Dylan's really not moving very fast yet. In fact, I think he's asleep."

In a voice so small Harry had to hold his breath to hear her, Laura continued. "Yesterday, while you were meeting with the Fischer Group and Mildred had already gone home? I forgot him at the office. Locked the door and was in the elevator halfway down before I realized what I'd done. I ran up six flights of stairs and found him sleeping peacefully in his little swing, but it was half an hour before I was calm enough to pick him up and come home."

Harry's answer was simply to settle his hand reassuringly on her head.

They lay listening to the silence for a while before she sighed, slid her hand under Dylan, and shifted him to her shoulder. Moving slowly so as not to jostle the satiated child she carefully pushed the comforter aside and stood. Harry followed her down the hall to the nursery of their new home.

Dylan looked positively angelic lying against the white bedding of his crib. Laura reached in to run her finger down the curve of his silken cheek. He drew in a faintly audible breath and what might be thought a smile flitted briefly across his face.

Harry wrapped both arms around Laura from behind as they watched their son sleep.

"When you brought him into me, I was having the most vivid dream. I was on a stakeout, standing in a long dark alley."

"It's natural for you to miss the excitement of investigative work," Harry whispered into Laura's ear.

"The thing is, in my dream I was confused - terrified, even. I've always loved being a private investigator. Rarely did I feel so out of control, so baffled, that I was afraid. "

Laura gestured at the sleeping child before turning in Harry's arms. "_This_ terrifies me, Harry. What if I screw this up?"

"The baby?"

Bringing both hands up to gently smooth her hair away from her face, Harry contemplated Laura's weary face. He leaned in to kiss her, slowly and tenderly, willing her to feel some part of the confidence she had had in him throughout the years since he had assumed the role of her partner.

"Look at me, Love."

There was a long, slow moment during which Laura dragged her eyes to Harry's face. The blue of his eyes was illuminated by a beam of pale moonlight angling in through the nursery window. Her tension eased in the deep, still pools of those eyes.

"When I brought Dylan into our bed, were you awake?"

"No – I already told you. I didn't hear a thing."

"And as soon as Dylan was in your arms, what did you do?"

"Just call me 'Bessie the cow.'"

"Lauura – you drew your son close and you nursed him. You didn't have to wake up and figure out your next move. You're a natural."

"Hmm. You think so, huh?"

"Don't you trust the great Remington Steele?"

Dimples puddled briefly around Laura's mouth. "Of course, Mr. Steele. Honesty is one of the best of the qualities I imagined you to possess. You have that and far more."

His eyes never left hers as he added dryly, "And I can honestly assure you that my mother didn't have a great deal to do with my becoming Remington Steele."

Laura bristled. "What's that supposed to mean? That Dylan would be better off without a mother around to mess things up?"

Steele grimaced as he realized his misstep. "You are without question the most difficult woman I have ever met. You know that's not what I meant. Laura, was your mother perfect?"

"Depends on who you're asking."

"Abigail Holt is a beautiful, passionate woman, but as I recall, she wanted you to become a dental hygienist. You _chose_ to become Laura Holt, private investigator, security specialist, partner of Remington Steele, and now, a wonderful mum."

"I'm not sure I thought some of those things through very well."

"We didn't have perfect parents, Laura, and we didn't turn out so bad. There's room for a little failure. Besides, the woman who dreamed up Remington Steele has the intelligence, the imagination and the courage to face whatever challenges parenthood holds. She's already managing her son flawlessly. Just like she manages his father, eh?" Harry's eyebrow rose impishly.

"And if I forget to pick him up from school because I get too busy at work? Or don't hear him call me when he's fallen off his bike and gotten hurt? "

"It will be OK, because I'll be there, too." He smiled his most winning smile at Laura.

Dylan hiccupped and stirred, stretching one tiny fist up as high as his shell-like ear as the other fluttered under his chin. Laura turned to him, reaching down to cup his downy head in her hand as she quieted him with a few softly sung notes of a low lullaby.

Harry stood next to her, captivated by the sight of mother and child. When all was still once more, he pulled his wife close and murmured into her the crook of her neck, "You're the perfect mother for our son. You carried him in your body for nine long months, gave birth to him, and through some process completely beyond my grasp, you're providing the nourishment that's making him as plump as a little Christmas goose."

"Well, when it comes to division of labor women still get the short end of the stick."

"Anything I can do to make it up to you, Laura, I will."

"I'll work on that list."

Reaching up to touch the corner of one of the gentle steel blue eyes she loved so well, Laura smiled sadly. "He's going to have brown eyes."

"His mother's melting chocolate eyes," Harry agreed in a husky voice, leaning in to kiss her dark lashed lids.

"Let's go back to bed. I'm afraid this little tyrant of yours isn't going to sleep much longer."

"Ours, Laura; _our_ little tyrant. We're in this together. Mummy and Daddy. Deal?"

Reaching out to shake hands with Harry, Laura still looked a bit doleful. "Sure. Deal."

Grabbing her outstretched hand, he swung her around in a pirouette that backed her into his embrace. After a quick kiss to a favorite spot beneath her ear, he pretended to hide behind her small frame, hanging on to her waist as he pushed her playfully down hall to their room. "My plan now is to stay close and make sure you don't leave me behind on any future dream stakeouts."

At this Laura's laugh bubbled out like a spring of dancing water. "Keep those baby blues on me, Mr. Steele, and don't lose me in the turns."


End file.
